


5 Times Sam Caught Dean With Krissy (and One Time Dean Caught Sam)

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 18:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam doesn't mean to keep catching them. Rally. It's not his fault they can't keep it in their pants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Times Sam Caught Dean With Krissy (and One Time Dean Caught Sam)

October 30th

The first time Sam catches them it’s a total accident.

Dean had told him about her, sure.

And yeah, it was a little weird.

Okay, a lot weird. (“You’re twice her age, Dean!”)

But he’d come to terms with it. After all, they had done a lot worse. And it wasn’t like they weren’t already going to hell.

In retrospect, maybe the reason he was so okay with it was that whenever they went to visit Krissy, Sam dropped Dean off and her house and went back to the hotel room. Or Sam went to the library for a couple hours and gave them their time. Krissy even came on a few hunts, but at least then they were distracted enough to keep it in their pants and let Sam keep his eyes safely inside of his skull.

But then there was tonight.

They were working a case just outside of town, and all the motels were booked (who the fuck holds an insurance conference at a motel anyway?) so they’d given Krissy a call and she’d set aside the guest room for the boys to share.

Sam was a little disgusted, seeing as this was probably the room that the two of them inhabited whenever Dean came to visit, and opted for the couch.

It was 2 AM now.

God, Sam should’ve stayed downstairs.

Sure, he’d just figured out what the hell they were fighting after long hours of research and it was pretty exciting.

But he really should have stayed downstairs.

Up the stairs.

Past Aiden’s room (there’s muffled noises and the faint sound of moans coming from what is presumably his television. Teenagers. He can’t at least wait until there aren’t grown men staying in the house. But like Sam said. It’s 2 AM. He probably didn’t expect people to be awake. Sam sure didn’t.)

Past Josephine and Krissy’s room. It was silent in there. Thank god.

Finally, the guest room. His hand felt around in the darkness for the doorknob. “Dean?” He asked, abandoning all pretenses of whispers as he was deliberately trying to wake his brother up. “Dean, get up, I think I found-”

“SAM!”

There was a clammer as Sam’s hand shot to his face to cover his eyes.

His poor eyes. No amount of scrubbing would ever wipe that image clean from his mind. “D-Dean?”

“You can look now, Sammy.”

Sam slowly opened one eye and squinted over at them. Krissy had hastily thrown one of Dean’s t-shirts on, and Dean was sitting forward, the sheet pulled up around his waist. He looked pissed.

“Have you ever heard of knocking!”

“I-I thought you were asleep,” Sam mumbled. “I figured out what we’re up against.”

“It couldn’t wait ‘till morning?”

The reason that it couldn’t is suddenly gone from Sam’s mind.

“I-”

Dean raised his eyebrows. Krissy blushed and looked away, embarrassed.

“I’ll just go then…”

Sam turned on his heel and closed the door behind him.

“KNOCK NEXT TIME, YOU ASSHOLE!” Dean called behind him. Sam shook his head and walked slowly, as if in a haze back down the hall.

He could hear Krissy’s faint giggle and the ruffling of the sheets as they were right back at it.

This was going to be a hard case. 

October 30th

The second time wasn’t much better.

There was a significant lack of naked Dean this time. So that was a plus.

But it was still just as akward.

Sam woke up early that morning. He’d only gotten two hours of sleep, but there was no way he was going to get any rest sleeping on the couch. He had tried to make himself as small as he possibly could, but being a sasquatch as Dean would call him didn’t exactly make sleeping on a small couch comfortable. 

He went upstairs at around 6. It was a particularly good idea, but he really needed to pee and Aidan had clogged the downstairs toilet with gunpowder last night.

Why the little shit felt like that was absolutely necessary was beyond Sam.

Sam had really tried putting this off as long as possible. He didn’t think he’d be able to approach anywhere near the guest bedroom after last night. But it had been an hour of lying in agony on the couch, his limbs jumbled up on top of himself, and his bladder incessantly screaming.

He reached the bathroom and was reaching for the lock when he found that it opened on it’s own accord.

Emerging was Krissy.

Wearing Dean’s shirt.

AGAIN.

“Hey Sam!” She said brightly.

“What are you doing up so early?” He asked, regretting it immediately.

Krissy looked down, avoiding his gaze.

“I haven’t slept,” she mumbled.

Sam swallowed hard. “I see,” he said.

Krissy bit her lip and stepped out of the way. “It’s all yours.”

“Thanks.” He stepped past her, and paused, with his hand on the door. “Uhh, Krissy?”

“Hmm,” she turned around, a sly look on her face like she was trying not so say I’ve-been-fucking-your-older-brother-all-night.

“Do me a favor? Wait a couple minutes before the next round. At least till I’m downstairs.”

She grinned and let out a short laugh. “Yeah, no problem, Sam.”

She lied.

November 17th

Sam is FED UP.

It was okay at first. They were a couple towns over from Krissy, so Sam agreed to stop in a see her, but only for a little while because they really had to focus on the case. He ended up stuck on the couch with Josephine and Aidan for two hours, blasting the TV to drown out the sounds of Dean’s “quickie.” (“Dean, can I at least have the keys so I can take the other two out to dinner and give you guys some time?” “No, no, Sam I promise, we’ll be really quick. I know you want to check out the scene. Fifteen minutes, I promise.”) It was awkward, sure, but Sam could live with it.

Then it got worse. Dean had skipped out on interviewing witnesses because he just had to take Krissy to lunch. (“We’ll grab fast food, I’ll just be a couple minutes late.” He showed up to the motel room two hours after Sam had returned, smelling of sex and holding a cold, soggy burger for Sam. “I don’t even like these, Dean.”) Sam had been left with the mother of the victim, who insisted on sitting beside Sam on the couch, and leaned in very close (definitely too close) whenever her daughter-in-law looked away. But even that Sam could deal with.

It got to be too much when Dean insisted Krissy stay with them for a night in the motel. (“No, Dean, NO! Definitely not. I am not listening to that all night! Just, no.” “Please Sammy, you don’t even have to be here, there’s a bar five minutes down the road.”) But Krissy had given him these big, brown puppy dog eyes (was that really what he looked like?) and Dean asked so many times that he finally acqueiesed just to get the two of them to shut up. When he stumbled back into the room at 3 AM, smashed out of his mind from a night at the bar, all the drinks in the world couldn’t wipe the image of his big brother and the barely-legal girl all wrapped up in his arms like that.

He had never thought Dean would be so whipped.

But this was the last straw. Sam paced outside the library and tried to call Dean’s cell again. It was bad enough Dean had ditched him at the library to do research, but now he was late picking him up.

“Pick up, you horny asshole,” Sam muttered into the receiver, running a hand through his hair.

“What is it, Sammy?” Dean growled into the phone after finally picking up on the third ring.

“Dean! Thank God. Dude, you’re 20 minutes late. I think I’ve got the M.O. on this thing, but I need-”

“Sammy-” Dean grunted and Sam’s eyes widened in recognition. He’d gotten Sam’s past seven calls. He’d just chosen not to answer. “Really not a great time…” Dean muttered.

“Right, yeah. I’ll just wait here,” Sam turned and went back into the library. Might was well distract himself. God knows he’d need to after the mental image that was just planted in his mind.

“Jerk,” he said, under his breath then hit Call End. He was pretty sure Dean had already dropped the phone.

November 18th

He really had to stop letting Krissy come along on hunts.

Every time.

Every fucking time.

Every time she came on a hunt, he caught wind of it at least 5 times. It wasn’t once every six months.

Cause that he could deal with.

Lie.

But still better.

No, it was, catching them in the act at least twice a day.

Could those fuckers be more open about it?

Talk about exhibitionism.

They finally tracked down the ghost that was committing the murders. It led them to a warehouse on the East end of town.

They is a pretty generous term.

It was Sam.

All Sam.

When they reached the warehouse, Dean had convinced Sam that it’d be a good idea to split up and check out the place. He’d go with Krissy, obviously, and check the ground floor, while Sam looked upstairs. (“Let her tag along, Sammy, she knows what she’s doing.”) and Sam should have caught on to what was really happening. Dean would never just invite Krissy on a hunt.

He just knew he wouldn’t get away with ditching Sam to stay in bed all day.

Again.

Did Sam mentioned just how often this happened?

Either way, Sam ended up on his own, wandering the halls of this goddamn freakin’ abandoned warehouse.

That’s when he heard it.

He supposed it was his fault for coming downstairs. But to his defense, the top floor was only a few large, empty rooms, and the ground was a series of winding corridors with hidden rooms and many more opportunities to hide bones.

Or you know, make out.

He heard the thump as he was passing through the West Wing. It wasn’t far from where Dean and Krissy had started out, and he thought maybe they’d located the bones, but the ghost had shown up and thrown them against the wall.

In retrospect, if they had found the bones, they would’ve called.

To be fair, if you’re in a haunted building, and you hear a loud banging on the wall in near where your big brother was definitely wandering, you’re not exactly going to be thinking logically.

He threw open the door gun cocked and flashlight raised, scanning the room.

“Whoa, Sammy, put that thing away!” Dean exclaimed, a hand coming up to cover his eyes.

It wasn’t the fucking ghost.

It was Dean, who’d pushed Krissy up against the supply closet wall and caused the abandoned shelves to shake.

Sam really should’ve seen this coming.

December 13th

It’s been almost a month since they’ve seen Krissy and Sam can see Dean silently going insane.

Sure, he never actually says anything.

Dean never would.

But he’s constantly hostile. (As he usually is if he ever goes over two weeks without sex.)

And he’s always checking his phone. (A couple months ago, he could press Call Sam and Call End.) But now he seems to be fully integrated in the culture of texting, and he’s even subtly taking pictures of things to send to her: his burger as it comes out, an artifact from a case they’re working. Sam doesn’t even want to know what they could possibly be sending each other that he’s not seeing.

For the most part however, it’s going okay.

Dean’s relatively normal.

Maybe even happier (as a whole) but Sam would never bring that up.

He has no desire to revisit Hell.

Sam’s hunched over his laptop, furiously researching one bitch of a case when he gets strong desire for a soda. He looks around and there’s nothing in the room.

There’s no harm in going out to get a drink from the soda machine, right?

Wrong.

He should’ve known that something so simple as leaving the room to grab a soda was too much to ask for.

“No, Kris, I already told you-” He hears Dean say as he’s punching in the code for his drink. Dean’s around the corner, leaning against the wall, and whispering into the phone.

Dean groans.

“Fine, baby. Fine. I want-”

Sam silently wills the Soda to drop from the machine faster so he can get the fuck out of here.

“I want you on your knees, with that pretty little mouth of yours wrapped around my dick.”  
Sam’s had just about enough. He slams his hand against the soda machine, and the bottle finally falls. He grabs it quickly and turns around to book it back to the room.

“Sam?” Dean says, weakly, watching Sam walk away, his eyes huge and worried.

“Dean.” Sam nods and holds up his soda. “Yeah I uh, got thirsty. I’ll just, I’ll be back in the room.”

December 23rd

Dean kicked the door closed behind him and took a couple fries out of the take-out bag he was holding. He quickly showed them into his mouth and smiled at the sheer greased-up delight.

It was a couple days until Christmas and he and Sam had agreed to take a week off and stay at Krissy’s place for the holiday.

Normally, Dean didn’t particularly like Christmas.

And Sam dreaded it like it was the fucking apocalypse.

But Krissy had asked him (she picked the perfect time too, right when she was about to blow him) to stay with her.

Dean could never say no to her.

Especially when her lips were just inches from his dick.

“Hey guys, I picked up dinner,” he said, entering the kitchen and grabbing a beer.

Sam and Krissy were sitting around the table, and both frantically stood up and tried to rearrange the papers in front of them.

“Oh, uh, hey Dean,” Krissy mumbled, a guilty look in her eyes.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked. He walked over to them and reached for the papers on the counter, but Sam blocked his path. “Sam,” he moved to the left, but he wasn’t quick enough for Sam.

Krissy would say he was getting old.

He would deny it profusely.

“Sam,” he said again, more insistent this time.

Finally he dodged Sam and got a hold of the yellow legal pad that was on the top of their pile.

“Dean’s Christmas Gift,” he read, in Krissy’s tiny, teenage girl handwriting.

She smiled sheepishly at him and Sam pursed his lips and looked towards the ceiling.

“You went to my little brother for gift ideas?”

“I needed to know what you liked,” she muttered, embarrassed. “You know, other than boobs and booze.”

He smiled and slid an arm around her shoulders. “You’re adorable,” he whispered into her hair.

“You guys are ridiculous,” Sam muttered, getting up and leaving. “I literally can’t escape…”


End file.
